


Impetuous Kisses (of) Egregious Attraction

by MellikeMellow



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Fluff, IKEA, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellikeMellow/pseuds/MellikeMellow
Summary: Trunks needs some furniture for his new pad, and Bulla and Goten sign up to help him. An innocent trip to IKEA turns into a revelation for Goten.Short and sweet fluff. For context, Bulla is 20/21 and Goten is 32/33. Written for the Broten Shippers Squad Discord prompt “Pillow Talk”.
Relationships: Bra Briefs/Son Goten
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Impetuous Kisses (of) Egregious Attraction

“Please, please, please?” The pair of pleading big, blue eyes would not leave Trunks’ field of vision, despite how hard he glared in return. “I really need a new dresser, and I  _ love _ shopping there!”

“It’s not a trip for  _ you _ ,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “And since when do you need a new dresser?”

Bulla sniffed airily and rearranged her skirt hem. “Since you said you were going to IKEA.”

Trunks snapped his finger and pointed at his sister accusingly, having known all along. She was an addict. “Bulla, you’re not entitled to go with whoever is having a shopping trip. Besides, what if Goten and I want to do something else after?”

At that, Bulla snorted, hopping down off the edge of her brother’s desk to follow him about his office while he collected his things for the day. “Then I’ll just tag along,” she preened and he sneered in exaggerated revulsion. “Just like old times!” 

He held the door open for her as she stopped to grab her bag and coat from the hook by the entrance, allowing her to skip out ahead him. “Oh yeah, you mean those old times where you were five and me and Goten had to bring you along when we’d go on the Boardwalk?”

Memories thankfully misty and watercolor, but the red tint of resentment still clouded over them. Trunks having to bring his clingy sister to play games, eat fair food, and in general interrupt his running play with girls. 

“You’re such an ass,” she snapped and leapt ahead to press down on the elevator. It pinged and opened for them, and Trunks slapped his hand over the L button before her with a smirk. “I’m not some kid anymore, and besides, you value my opinion on this stuff wayyy more than Goten’s.”

Bulla had a point. If it came down to hearing out her versus Goten on interior design, he’d pick his sister one hundred percent of the time. She was stylish and had a good eye; he couldn’t deny that. But was it worth the third wheel…

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna spend time with meee,” she sang sweetly by his side, and the ridiculous grin she was beaming up at him sealed it.

Dang, how did she always do that?

“Fine,” Trunks relented with a groan that was stifled by her hooray of happiness. “But try not to be a bother. And no lollygagging, alright? You and mom always take forever. I’ve got other stuff to do besides pick out furniture tonight.”

The lobby opened up and the pair strode out, both bowing and waving to other company employees as they exited the grand Capsule Corporation office skyscraper. It was mid-afternoon on a Friday, and both Briefs heirs were taking advantage of their station to play a little hooky.

Once inside the waiting limo, Bulla shifted over to her own couch where she threw her things to the floorboard and sprawled on her belly, phone magically in hand and fingers working light speed. Trunks followed suit and settled in much more gracefully, one hand pulling his own phone from his pocket as the other worked to undo his suit coat buttons.

Pressing his first speed dial, he shrugged out of the jacket and pinned the phone between his freed shoulder and ear as he shook out the other arm.

Goten picked up after one ring. “Hey! You on your way already?”

“If that’s cool?” Trunks said more than asked. He glanced up at his sister, who had shifted upright but was still very engrossed in her phone. “Also, we’re on babysitting duty.”

From over the top of her phone, without breaking her eyes from the screen, Bulla blew him a raspberry.

“Oh, sweet! B’s coming?”

Her sour pout morphed into a bright grin, and Bulla called hello to the younger Son offspring. 

Trunks rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but don’t make her think we want her there.”

“You love me,” Bulla snickered to her phone and yanked her leg away as Trunks shot his heel out for a kick.

“Okay, well, I’m closing up now. I’ll be waiting out front when you roll up,” Goten told him, and the pair bid goodbye.

Giving their driver the familiar directions to the Satan City dojo, Trunks returned his attention to his sister who still had not pried her gaze from the bright little screen. The infantile urge to snatch it from her hit him for a half second, but Trunks thought better of it.

“You gonna come up for air sometime?” He teased instead.

Bulla smirked, eyes flitting up and down over whatever she was engrossed in. “I thought you didn’t want me to be a bother?” She parried cheekily. Before he could respond, she flipped her phone around and passed it to him.

It was the IKEA main website. Bulla had evidently been browsing and, with a glance, he noted 12 items in her shopping cart. He was a snoop, but she had invited him to be, and he clicked the little icon in the top right corner.

“What happened to just the dresser?”

“Some of that’s for you!” Bulla said brightly. “Look at it, tell me whatcha think!”

His thumb rolled over the items she had saved, and his jaw shifted left and right as he mulled over the aesthetic of her furniture selections. Trunks was finally moving into his own bachelor pad (no self respecting 30-something billionaire should still be at home) and hadn’t realized how little personal effects he actually possessed until it came time to fill it.

“Not too bad,” he conceded with a nod and returned her phone. “Hard to pick out beds without seeing them in person, though.”

“Mmm,” Bulla hummed in agreement as she continued her online shopping. “I may pick out a new one myself— ooooh, lookit this one! So cute!”

It didn’t take long to reach the dojo, and true to his word, Goten was clad in his loud orange gi, waiting on the curb with a duffel bag over his shoulder. Trunks threw the door open for him, and the men greeted one another with their special secret handshake. From her perch across from the door, Bulla rolled her eyes at them.

No sooner than her eyes had drifted back to her phone the burly, dark haired man took an unceremonious seat beside her. She squealed as he roped her under one massive arm and pulled her in for a hug, her stockinged legs thrashing as she squirmed to pull out from underneath his bicep.

“Goten! You’re still so sweaty, ew!” Bulla screeched and shoved at him, but he released her with no argument. “Just what I need, to smell like a Fight Club,” she groused and leaned away from him with a crinkle at her nose.

“It’s good to see you too,” Goten grinned charmingly at her. “Glad you could join us. Feel like I haven’t seen enough of the Briefs lately.”

“Keep that up, you won’t see me for a while yet,” Bulla threatened, and the Son feigned being aghast. “You’re really gonna go wearing this?”

Goten guffawed at her and toed the end of his duffel bag for clarification. “Nah, I’ve got my change of clothes in here.”

“Divert thine virgin eyes, sister,” Trunks warned with a snigger.

Bulla grimaced and turned so that her back was angled toward Goten as he pulled the black sash at his waist and began to strip. “These eyes aren’t virgin,” she snidely tossed over her shoulder, both men blanching at that revelation. “But a naked Son Goten isn’t on my to-do list either.”

“Geeze, B. Go easy on a guy…”

Neither man caught her discreet peeking as Goten pushed the orange fabric the rest of the way down, nor did they seem to hear her girlish squeak as she whipped back the other way.

Trunks was focused on his phone as Goten redressed in a pair of brown slacks and a fitted green sweater. When he had started looping his belt, Bulla turned back, albeit now seemingly even more interested in the online IKEA selection.

“So what’s on the list?” Goten asked as he rubbed both palms over his thighs. “Y’said dining set, bed, sofa—“

“Basically everything,” Trunks nodded toward Bulla. “She’s got a cart going for me.”

Goten tilted backward to peer over Bulla’s shoulder. “Oooh, lemme see. You’re always so good at this,” he remarked as she passed him her phone with a blush. “Ahh, I like this bed. Look pretty simple and  _ comfortable _ .”

The friends shared suggestive wiggles of their eyebrows as Bulla snatched her phone back with a snarl. “Gross,” she hissed under her breath.

“ _ You _ wanted to come along,” Trunks reminded her.

“Yeah, to go shopping, not to hear how you’re gonna break in the bed I pick out for you,” Bulla spat.

“We’ll see if I even like it—“ Trunks began, before being cut off by a sharp trilling in his phone.

Bulla grimaced on his behalf, while a confused Goten looked between her and the now frustrated Trunks, who angrily answered the phone.

“Work,” she leaned over to whisper to Goten. “He told his secretary to only call if it’s an emergency.”

Goten’s face fell. “Uh oh…”

The pair remained silent as Trunks ranted on the phone. Bulla elbowed Goten abruptly, and he followed her pointing nail down to his feet still clad in his Kung fu slippers. He shot her an appreciative grin and kicked them off, hurrying to dig out his brown Docs and some mismatched socks.

Trunks ended the call with an annoyed grunt, and he went immediately about redressing into his suit coat. Bulla’s smile vanished immediately. “Oh, Trunks. Do you have to?”

He nodded grimly at his sister as he refastened the middle button across his abs. “Apparently the Rodner Company wants to negotiate a better term,” he sighed and pressed the button on his right armrest. Slowly, the limo pulled to a halt by the curb. “But listen, you two are already here. Why don’t you guys just go without me?”

“Are you trying to get us to do your work for ya?” Goten squinted at his buddy.

“I’d gladly swap you, ‘Ten.”

The youngest Son waved his hands with a laugh. “I don’t think I could even buy furniture right by myself, let alone handle a merger.”

“Be nice,” Trunks fired off at his sister, who had been sulking against the seat. “Hey, you do this for me and I’ll put together whatever dresser you get for you, alright?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “You sure you trust us?”

Trunks smiled as he opened the limo door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He held one hand to the top and the other on the door as he leaned back in to add, “Who else knows me better than you two? Send me pics.”

He had shut the door before either of them could agree or argue, and once it had closed the limo took off into traffic again. The pair sat in amicable silence for a little while, though something shifted just slightly to make it a hair uncomfortable, and neither could say why.

“So, you need a dresser?” Goten wondered, and Bulla startled from staring out the window. “Trunks said.”

“Oh, that,” she laughed lightly. “Not really. He told me you guys were going to IKEA today, and I literally cannot resist them.”

“Their stuff is good,” Goten agreed. “Wish I had someone like you to help me decorate when I moved out!”

He blessedly missed her cheeks tinge pink, and Bulla busied herself with her phone again in an attempt to shake the weird feeling his wish instilled in her. 

It wasn’t terribly far to the nearest IKEA, and the pair were comfortable enough with one another to make idle chit chat the way there. When the limo pulled alongside the storefront, Bulla tucked a 100 zeni through the front window for the chauffeur. Ever the gentleman, Goten opened the door to allow her first exit, clambering out after.

“So, I already ordered pretty much all the basics for him,” Bulla began as they strode into the home goods store. “There’s just a few pieces I wanted to see in person. They looked good on the website, but sometimes it’s better to get an up close look.”

Initially, Bulla made a plan on how to effectively make it through the store in a timely manner. Had it just been she and Trunks, she wouldn’t have worried so much about the “lollygagging” as he so fondly described it. Bulla was an idle shopper by nature, living her best life just perusing a store, no real end game in mind. But somehow, being alone with Goten, that just seemed out of the question.

“Heyyy, look at that!” Goten whistled as he pulled away from Bulla to ogle a long storage cabinet. He patted the top of it, throwing her a grin over his shoulder. “You said you needed a dresser?”

Bulla squinted as she sidled up beside him and bent over to peek at the ticket on it. “I said a dresser, not a whole storage unit,” she snipped, though off his whipped look she softened. “I bet it’d look good in your place, though.”

It was Goten’s turn to laugh as he followed her wandering feet to the next smaller chest of drawers. An appropriately sized piece. “How would you know? You’ve never been to my place.”

“Have too,” she sang with a toss of her hair as she checked the price of the 9 drawer Hauga. “Your 30th birthday.” He hung his mouth open in question at her, and she breezed through the recollection he seemed to be missing, opening and closing each drawer for inspection. “You got completely hammered with Trunks, and he begged me to take you and him to your place.”

Goten leaned against the other side of the dresser with both brows shot up along his forehead. “Really? And then what happened?”

Bulla twirled to eye him skeptically. “You really don’t remember?”

He merely shook his head, and Bulla smiled bashfully. Slowly now she approached him, folding both hands behind her back. Blue orbs, round and angelic, peeked up at him from under aqua tresses, and she saw and heard him swallow in anxious wait.

“You came on to me,” she told me innocently, and Goten turned crimson from under the collar of his shirt to the tops of his ears.

“I did WHAT?” He barked, horrified, sweat already beaded at his temples.

She was kinder than the rest of her kin, and Bulla folded almost immediately after his reaction. She spun away in a fit of giggles toward the kitchen and dining sections, with a now red and furious Son Goten on her heels.

Bulla bent at the hip to open an oven door and peek in, but Goten caged her from behind and pushed it shut with some force.

“Bulla, that’s not funny,” he scolded her, tips of his ears still pink. “That would have made you 17! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I dunno, I think your face is pretty hilarious right now,” she cheeked with a wink that only made Goten turn more red. She had been butted up against the stove by him, and Bulla caught the stares of a nearby pregnant couple.

“Watch out, we’re a spectator sport, apparently,” she murmured up to him with a pointed look thrown the couple’s way along with an overly kind wave. Twisting at his waist, Goten joined Bulla in the jovial greeting, although his was certainly far more genuine.

She pushed at his hip to grant her some space to maneuver around him. Spying the kitchen table set, Bulla gestured to it, and Goten pulled out her chair for her.

His hands folded on the table as he sat across from her. “Seriously, what happened?”

“How much did you guys drink that night?” Bulla wondered instead as she neatened up the dinnerware around the table.

Goten whistled low. “Probably more than we should have, if memory serves.” His eyes bolted up as Bulla rose to meander into the living room demo, and he scrambled up from the table to follow behind.

“Man, these shoes are killing me,” she griped as she plopped on to the large, grey sectional. Goten fell down beside her, and she kicked her feet up across his lap and flexed her feet pointedly. “Look at these heels.”

“Yeah, I don’t get why girls wear those,” Goten said as he inspected her footwear. “Like what’s the point?”

“Helps us be equal to men,” Bulla rolled her eyes.

“Well, you’re not!”

Her eyes flashed at him, but her lashes fluttered at the sweet, trademark Son grin he was shining on her. “You’re way cooler than most guys I know, B! Don’t torture yourself to impress them.”

Unwilling to address his compliment directly, Bulla merely blushed and twisted her foot sideway to peek down at the sole. “Well, I also think they’re pretty.”

“I’ll give you that—“

A throat cleared behind them, and the two hybrids tilted their heads back to see a salesperson watching them with tightly-pursed lips. “Excuse me,” she began. “But no feet on the display, please.”

“Sorry,” Bulla giggled as she pushed up from the couch, Goten holding her elbow to help her to her feet. She bowed her head in apology before shooting her companion a sneaky grin, turning to hustle toward the bedroom displays.

Goten caught up with her in a few bounding strides, and the pair shared a laugh at their innocent mischief. With a sudden gasp, Bulla skipped toward a king size floor model. She jumped and swan dived on to the lush duvet, and the beige, tufted headboard shook when Goten belly-flopped beside her. Their laughter echoed up to the warehouse rafters as they both rolled to their backs.

“This one’s nice, right?” Bulla giggled as she tucked strands of blue out from between them. She tipped over onto her side as the older man matched her, propping the side of her head in her hand and her elbow pressing into the mattress. “He likes boring neutrals, but also likes pretending he’s so fancy.”

Her companion eyed the headboard and wiggled in the bed forcefully, making it shake and drawing more tinkling laughter from Bulla. “Hmmm, yeah, feels sturdy enough.”

“Ew!” Bulla swatted at him, disgusted by his insinuation. 

“Hey,” Goten suddenly sobered and met her patient eyes. “Really, what happened that night?”

Bulla’s face turned just the slightest shade of rose. “Why are you so worried about it?”

“Cause you’re not saying anything.”

At that, she bit her lip, then threw herself back on her back to nestle her head back into the pillows. 

“I wasn’t joking,” Bulla finally announced, an apologetic glance cast aside to the youngest Son as she worked her lower lip between her teeth. He was watching her with intense apprehension. “Before. You really did come on to me.”

Goten screwed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. “B, I’m begging you, don’t mess with me…”

“I’m not,” she told him quietly, flinching when Goten swore and threw himself onto his back beside her. “Sorry.”

“Well, like— shit, what did I say?! Oh, man, Bulla, I’m so sorry—“

Bulla chuckled softly. “It’s okay, Goten,” she reassured him. “You were actually very sweet.”

“Yeah, but you were a kid—“ he stressed with a pained look. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong or weird,” she reaffirmed. Then, shyly, Bulla glanced away. “You just told me I looked really pretty. That I was always pretty.”

“Is that it?” His voice erred hopeful.

“... not exactly.”

He stared hard at the side of her face, willing her to look back at him, and eventually she rolled her head to the side to meet his gaze with a hardened expression he couldn’t place.

“You said you couldn’t wait until I was 20, then you got sick.” Her eyebrows arched to signal the end of the story.

Goten clapped both of his palms over his red face. “I am so sorry—“

“It’s fine,” her voice sounded clipped.

“Wait, does Trunks know?” He whispered beside her.

Bulla shook her head. “He was blacked out on your couch.”

“Where was I?” 

She sighed through her nose and gave him a glance, elaborating easily, “I was helping you into your bed.”

The male half-Saiyan cursed again, his eyes closed tight and the space between knit tight. He was focusing on his breathing, each breath drawn carefully - trying to calm himself. Eventually, when he seemed to find himself, he turned to face her. Bulla was staring stonily up at the rafters, her face trained into a neutral facade. 

The urge to apologize bubbled up again. “Bulla, I really am sorry.”

“Please, stop saying that,” she asked wearily. “I told you, it’s nothing. You were sweet.”

“Preying on little girls,” he grumbled in self-loathing.

“Stop, Goten. This is why I never said anything.”

Goten glared at her temple, waiting. 

She shuffled as she rolled to her side once more to look at him. “You know that felt, like, really good, right?” When he continued to stare at her nonplussed, Bulla heaved a beleaguered sigh. “You, talking to me like that. It was nice.”

“But I was drunk, and--”

“And, what?” She arched an eyebrow. “I know Trunks has told you I used to have a crush on you when I was little. I know it was obvious.” At that pseudo-revelation, Goten demurred and flushed crimson, but Bulla continued regardless, “So even though that was ages ago, it still felt so .... I don’t know, validating to finally hear that from you. I knew you were drunk and probably never would’ve said anything like that to me if it wasn’t for that, but--”

“You were a kid,” he reiterated.

“And now?” Bulla countered quickly, and Goten reared back against the pillow. Flummoxed by her boldness. “I’m not a kid now.”

His mouth moved nervously before snapping shut. Bulla grunted and nodded once, then turned to glare up at the ceiling once more. “Okay, then.”

“Of course you’re pretty,” Goten murmured after a few tense seconds. Bulla swallowed beside him, but remained unrelenting on her focus of the ceiling. “Look at you. You’re one of the most gorgeous women on the planet.”

Bulla startled at his confession, her mouth falling open in surprise as she turned her head toward him. Goten shrugged helplessly and smiled. “Every guy in here has been eyeing you since the minute you walked in,” he laughed, then tipped his spiky hair toward the pregnant couple now bickering over the sofa. “You haven’t noticed?”

Her head shook just slightly, and Goten reached over to tuck loose aqua locks behind her ear. “You’re not that blind, Briefs.”

“Sometimes, I am,” she breathed shakily. His hand hesitated just over her cheek, her light breaths feathering across his face.

When did they get so close?

Before he could think better of it, Goten leaned forward, his lips just barely brushing hers.

A throat cleared behind them, and Goten rolled to follow Bulla’s embarrassed gaze to the salesperson who had scolded them before, looming over them with folded arms and narrowed eyes.

“Let me guess,” Bulla muttered. “”No shoes on the bed?’”

The older woman glowered at her sass, but Goten chuckled deeply. “C’mon,” he told Bulla, tugging at her sweater sleeve as he slid off the bed. When he stood, he held out a hand for her, which she took, and Goten pulled her under his arm. “I think we know the bed’s good. Thank you, ma’am!”

He saluted the employee as they briskly strode away, both taking hurried strides straight out of the warehouse. The limo was still waiting nearby, and Goten all but jogged the rest of the way, grip tight on Bulla’s hand. He yanked open the door and shoved her in, hot on her heels, and when the door had closed the bluenette was on his lips in a flash and shoving him into the seat. They collapsed onto the bench together, trading kisses messy and eager, breathless laughter exhaled between them each time they pulled apart.   
  


“Don’t get Trunks that bed,” Goten huffed against her collar.   
  


Bulla arched into his arms with a shiver and a laugh. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

/*/

Trunks hustled to the front door, peeking sideways out the large window to the left, and he furrowed his brow. “Mom?” He hollered over his shoulder.

Bulma came in shortly after his call, as Trunks swung open the door.

A balding delivery driver held out an electronic clipboard. “Delivery for Briefs, B.”

“I didn’t order anything from IKEA,” Bulma mused as she canted her head at the clipboard curiously.

Thundering footsteps echoed from the stairwell, and Bulla dove down them two at a time. “It’s mine, it’s for me!” She panted. Taking the clipboard from the driver, she scribbled her name with a bright grin. “Thanks! You can just drop it off in the drive.”

“Uh,” the driver glanced over his shoulder, then back again uncertainly. “You don’t want help bringing it in, ma’am?”

“We got it,” she assured him in a rush to close the front door. 

Not interested in pushing it any further, the bald man shrugged and mosied back out to the truck, and he set to dropping the pallet and pieces off in the massive Capsule Corp driveway. Trunks squinted at the parts, but Bulla shut the door closed in front of him, turning for the stairs again.

“That doesn’t look like a dresser,” he said, voice suspicious.

“It’s my new bed,” Bulla shrugged. “I really liked it.”

Trunks scoffed and shook his head at his sister as he marched away from her, toward the gravity room. He completely missed Bulla’s hasty return upstairs as he called toward her, “Goten never said you picked out a bed…”

  
  



End file.
